


Major Tom

by jonesyslug



Series: Pills [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Study, Drug Use, Fuck Stephen King, Sonia's Death, i fuckin guess, this time though it's for the emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 08:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21407542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonesyslug/pseuds/jonesyslug
Summary: The morning after Sonia Kaspbrak's funeral, Eddie considers the other woman in his life.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak
Series: Pills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544398
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Major Tom

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So there are multiple song lyrics all in this. Guess what? Stephen King did that too, in a fucking BOOK, that got PUBLISHED, so I'm not going to apologize. (The book is Pet Semetary and the song lyrics actually work really well, but I DIGRESS). I did tag drug use in the warnings but it's not really explicit. It's fairly glossed over and I don't even say what it is. Even though I know what it is. (Should I have said what it is?). Still, that being said, if you're sensitive to that stuff, you probably haven't made it this far BUT- be careful. I love you.

Eddie stared at the ceiling. The room was slowly being bathed in pale blue winter morning light. The sun coming up was supposed to be a beautiful, blessed thing to witness. Something that makes you appreciate being alive. Eddie doesn’t feel particularly grateful for the sight or his life. 

_ Ashes to ashes. _

Yesterday when the sun came up, Sonia Kaspbrak had been- well, she hadn’t been alive, but she wasn’t in the ground yet. Today was a different story. He’d stood there, lip quivering, watching them lower the casket into the ground, and hating himself for sort of feeling relieved. It wasn’t right. But now that she was under all that dirt- that dirt he’d thrown the first handful of -well, she couldn’t get to him any more, could she?Truly and properly, she was gone, and that was something he’d wanted his whole life.

It was also the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to him. What was he supposed to do now? Was it all just over? He supposed he was allowed to be confused and upset for a while, death rarely left the bereaved in a tranquil, solid state. But he wondered if he wouldn’t just be this confused forever. 

He could finally ask Myra to marry him, now that his mother was no longer living with him, but- He couldn’t be too hasty about that. Something about that was strange. It was irreverent to his mother to move a new woman into his house to fill the hole she’d left, as if he’d had Myra lined up to take her place the moment she was out the door. Sure, he’d thought, maybe,  _ ideally,  _ his mother would move out on her own. Agree to go to assisted living. Then he’d be able to bring Myra into the house and it’d feel like the timing was good.

Now, though…

Myra had stayed with him last night, and he was grateful for that. But he didn’t understand how she could sleep so damn well. If it was her mother, her grief- he knew he’d have been up all night holding her while she cried, and they’d have watched the sun come up  _ together,  _ and maybe then they could carve out a way to be happy about the sunrise, because at least they were together.

But he and Myra were different people, and they reacted to things differently. She was constantly reminding him of this. That most couples were like that. Most  _ people,  _ in fact, and getting along on other levels was what was important to a relationship.  _ Loving each other,  _ that was the most important part. And they did. He couldn’t imagine his life without Myra, especially now.

_ I’d be alone. Completely alone.  _

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Tried to imagine how empty he would feel without Myra beside him. She hadn’t stayed up all night holding him, no, but she had stayed. She didn’t have to do that. He could be glad for that. Right?

She’d woken up to shush him, though. He’d been sobbing, and-

_ She was asleep, she didn’t know what she was doing. _

He wanted to believe that, very much. His eyes fluttered, David Bowie had been singing in his head since the funeral, and it seemed so stupid, it’d be something his mother hated, and that almost made him want to laugh.

** _Ashes to ashes, funk to funky. We know Major Tom’s a junkie._ **

He hated that the thought was occuring now, jumbling him up inside. He didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t feel like laughing. And yet, it was bubbling up.

** _Hitting an all-time low._ **

He stood up and rubbed his face. David Bowie kept singing, even while he tried to distract himself. He brushed his teeth, and his brain sang out:

_ My mother said, to- _

“Shut up.” Eddie whispered. 

Myra was sitting up, watching him from the bed. “What was that, Eddie Bear?”

A shock went through his body, like his veins were full of ice. He dropped his toothbrush.    
  
“What did you just call me?” He asked in a small voice, mouth still full of toothpaste.

Myra looked confused. “I called you Eddie Bear.”

Eddie stared at her, his eyebrows drawing together, and somehow had the good sense to spit out the toothpaste before he started talking again.

His constantly worried face was drawn together, exaggerating the lines that never seemed to leave. “Please don’t call me that.” He said. Not loud, but forceful.

“Eddie, why are you acting like this?” Myra asked, tears pricking her eyes.

Eddie looked more confused than upset, now. “What am I doing, Myra?”

“You’re  _ instigating! _ ” She screamed, grabbing a pillow and holding it to her chest.

Eddie sighed. 

** _Time and time again, I tell myself…_ **

He sighed. “I just really need you not to call me that.”

“Your mother called you that.”

“That’s why I need  _ you  _ not to call me that, Myra! Because that was something special that my mother called me. And I don’t want anyone else calling me that!”

He could feel a tension headache coming on, or maybe he was dehydrated, or both.

“Myra, I’m all cried out. I was up  _ all night _ crying! I can’t deal with this right now.” He said, walking towards the bedroom door.

“No, you’re not going to leave in the middle of an argument!” Myra said, jumping out of bed to cut him off.

** _Time and again I tell myself..._ **

“This isn’t- This  _ shouldn’t  _ be an argument! You shouldn’t be arguing with me right now, we just buried my  _ mother,  _ Myra!”

“Oh, so because you’re sad, I’m supposed to let you walk all over me? I’m supposed to put all my feelings on hold until you’re over your mom’s death?”   
  
“W-No! Who said I’m ever  _ getting over  _ this, anyway, Myra? No, you don’t have to put your feelings on- I just need you to cut me some fucking slack, at least today, considering we fucking buried her less than 12 hours ago!”

He grabbed the door knob, but Myra leaned against the door. 

“What? What do you want from me, Myra?” Eddie yelled, the energy leaving his body with the last syllable. His head hung. “Myra, I just want to take my vitamins, can you please let me through?”

Myra wrapped her arms around him. He stood still for a moment, confused, and she wrapped his arms around her waist, then resumed hugging him.

“Eddie, I don’t want to let this tear us apart.” She whispered. 

_ Oh, you’re worried about how  _ my  _ mom’s death affects you? Oh, this is about  _ us  _ now? It wasn’t about us last night when I was up wailing like a baby. It wasn’t about us when I got the news and you couldn’t even come over a little early because your sister was visiting. It wasn’t about us when- _

“It won’t, Myra.” He said, finally really hugging her back. “It won’t. I’m sorry.”   
  
_ What am  _ I  _ apologizing for? _

“Thank you, Eddie. I love you.”   
  
“I love you too, Myra.”

He pulled back from the hug and she gave him a quick kiss. Tears started to spring up in his eyes. He spoke thickly, past the lump in his throat. 

“I really need to go take my vitamins now, Myra.” He said, rushing out the door and down the stairs as the sobs started to overtake him.

He jerked open a kitchen cabinet.

** _We know Major Tom’s a-_ **

He shook the weekly pill organizer, to make sure it was the right one. All of them identical and stacked neatly, sometimes it was hard to tell. But this was it. All empty except Sunday. Sunday was packed full with more pills than anyone could possibly take in one day. White, rectangular pills, stacked like blocks. They rattled a specific way. Just hearing it put Eddie at ease.

** _Time and again I tell myself I'll stay clean tonight..._ **

He popped it open with quick, shaking fingers, and grabbed one, then two pills, and started to chew them. He quickly replaced the pill organizer in the middle of the stack, and got out one that actually had vitamins in it. He got himself a cup of water, knowing it wouldn’t help with the grotesque flavor of the pills he’d chewed, but he needed it anyway. To get all the grit down and start to take his vitamins. 

In his mad dash around the kitchen to make everything seem normal, he started a pot of coffee. Myra would be upset that there was no breakfast. He usually cooked for her. He couldn’t stand to do it today. He sat at the table, looking at his pills all lined up in order of size. Admiring the interesting colors and the shine on the capsules versus the matte of the powder on the tablets. Looking at pills made him feel better. At ease. It was something he was familiar with.

_ How fucked up is that, Eddie? _

Green and white. Blue. Orange. White. White. Sort of pink, but actually white. The dreaded orange and green pill, which Myra didn’t know he took. Twice a day, at that. 

Prozac, beautiful, Prozac.

God, they weren’t even married yet and he was keeping these secrets from her. Or, was it the sort of thing you kept to yourself  _ until  _ you got married?

** _I’m happy, hope you’re happy too._ **

One thing became apparent to Eddie as he took his medicine: he was not ready to get married. He was not ready to get married to the same extent that he felt the need to absolutely get married as soon as possible. 

He couldn’t be alone. Not in this house, not in this city, not in the world. It was all too big. 

He closed his eyes and listened to the water percolating in the coffee maker. 

No, absolutely not. As soon as it- As soon as he could bring himself to do it, he was proposing and asking Myra to move in. He would not be alone in this world. 

** _I’ve loved all I needed._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I didn't even listen to the David Bowie version of Ashes to Ashes while I wrote this. I listened to the version on my Eddie playlist, which is Ashes to Ashes by Mick Karn (don't murder me, but I prefer it. It feels more like a whole atmosphere rather than just an atmospheric song. Here's the link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GPBHQdG4xQ4
> 
> Anyway, I love you, and comments are appreciated more than anything in the world (and I truly mean that), so please pour your little heart out, even if all your heart can say is like, an emoticon.


End file.
